First Position
by fluoresensitive
Summary: Some sensual times with Thor and the Valkyrie, Brunhilde.


"Breathe."

"I _am_ breathing."

Brunhilde laughs, her brown hands running down either side of Thor's torso. Sweat holds to the tips of her fingers, and she leans close to kiss a line up his back, scars and battle wounds highlighted by her lips.

"If you were breathing I wouldn't have to remind you, now would I?"

Thor begins to chuckle, but the sounds gets caught on his throat as he oscillates his hips. The strap on — bright blue, vibrant, average sized but thick and weight — feels like thousands of tons inside of him. Only Brunhilde's fingers, her deep and soothing voice, her warm breath against his skin lifts the heaviness. He takes a deep breath and then another one. Lets it out slow and steady so Brunhilde knows that he's alright and he can handle it.

"You can move now," Thor said.

There's a smack to his ass then a gentle squeeze. Thor can feel Brunhilde pressing forward, her hips, the purple leather harness pressing against his muscled thighs. She dips low and whispers into his ear. A hand runs along the fronts of his legs, moving up and up until she grabs hold of his dick. She strokes it once, twice, a twist of the wrist with each one. "Am I being bossed around?"

"Tease me any longer and I might lose resolve."

"Oh, not you, _your majesty._ " Still, Brunhilde inches in and out, hands caressing and pressing into anything they can reach. It's a delightful feeling, being filled. Brunhilde knows this personally after having been on Thor's side, beneath him. Just minutes ago she was riding him hard enough that she felt like she _had_ found a new pony, bigger and more potent and way more willing to try new things.

Thor relaxes, his back curving, and reveals a delicious line of flesh. A perfect arch, practiced. Brunhilde plants more kisses in the valley of the small of his back, the mountains of his shoulder blades. He listens as Brunhilde murmurs praise. The sounds become distant as he focuses in on the small things. The sensations of her strong hand wringing his dick, the strength of her free hand on his shoulder as she presses deep, deeper. Her thrusts are slow at first, careful, but soon they become firm. Thor grabs hold of the sheets, the fabric slippery between his fingers. He bites his lips, takes in sharp breath.

Above him, Brunhilde pants, movements fierce and her intentions even fiercer. He wishes he could see her face — the sweat on her brow, the eagerness in her eyes. He looks over his shoulder and calls her forward, tells her his desires after exchanging a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Brunhilde, winded but never weary, comes away from his lips with a coy smile. She inches out of Thor slow enough to make him feel every bit of the strap. Thor lets out a half-choked sob, missing the strap even as it leaves him. Brunhilde pities him, consoles him with a two-handed squeeze to the ass before parting his cheeks and sucking at his hole.

Thor groans, buries his face into the pillow. He moans into the cloth and pushes back against Brunhilde's tongue until she gives his cheek a gentle little swat.

"Turn over. Now."

Her voice is stern and serious, her pupils blown wide with lust. Thor obeys, twisting over to lie on his back. Brunhilde helps him adjust the pillow beneath his hips and asks, sweetly, "Comfy?"

"Very." Thor looks up Brunhilde, good eye blown wide with lust and heart pounding in his chest. He feels wanton as he spreads his legs to make room for the valkyrie. He knows what he looks like; debauched, ruined. Lips bright red from her kisses, neck and thighs purple from her love bite, hair tousled from her firm grip and his dick begging to be sucked, held. If he were a meeker man, he'd blush. But he is not meek. He's Thor Odinson, god of thunder, defender of Earth and Asgard, _king_ of nine realms. What he wants, what he desires, he will have and enjoy without embarrassment.

And what he wants at the moment, more than anything, is for Brunhilde to fuck him. He rises up to meet her, gaze hopping from her eyes, to her lips, to her breasts. He catches her in a kiss. Once, twice, three times before moving onto her neck, laving at her jaw and collarbone before sucking a breast into his mouth. Brunhilde makes a happy humming noise, strong enough for him to feel it as he lapped circles around her areola.

He releases her, panting, and says, "Fuck me."

"Yeah?"

Thor pulls Brunhilde down to the bed with him, his hand in her curls. The strap-on presses against his dick, and he gasps. Noticing this, taking advantage of this, Brunhilde ruts against him, her forehead against his shoulder as she works both ends of the strap. Her side — a nub, shortened, rather than the heavy thing inside of Thor — is smooth, wet with her juices.

"Feels good?" Thor asks, his voice breathy and low. He eases his fingers up her sides, tickling lightly. He likes the firmness of her muscles, her soft stomach and breasts.

Brunhilde lifts her hand some and chuckles. "IS this how you want it, my king? With me above you and you laying beneath me like some storybook maiden?"

"If I am the maiden, what does that make you?"

Brunhilde considers this for a moment, raises a brow and craftily says, "The chivalrous knight come to rescue you and scandalize you. Consider this your token of favor."

Thor smiles. "Do you feel chivalrous with this blue thing inside of me?"

"It's called a strap-on and yes. Yes, I do."

Though she has no sword or worse and wore none of her Valkyrie regalia, Thor agrees. Brunhilde, high on her knees, is power and imposing. The glittering, blue strap wet with lubricant, the loose curls fallen from their impromptu "sex-bun", the warm copper of her skin shining like gold in the hazy sunset light. She dips down into him now, his entrance smooth after working him open with his fingers and tongue. The thrusts were fierce before, but now they were smooth and deep strokes.

The snap of her hips against his thighs, the collected sweat and heat of their bodies makes Thor feel like their two bodies are one. Brunhilde mutter encouragements and praises into his mouth, the crook of his neck. His ears ring with love talk, and in return, Thor gives her his moans, his mouthy and filthiest exclamations.

"Yes! There, there, oh, more!"

"Deeper, come on now! Deep— _er_!"

Valkyrie obeys each demand, loving the way Thor arches and twists to get what he wants. Their lovemaking is like battle training. Chests heaving, pushing and pulling, both at their limits but going on still. Unlike training or in battle, there will be no winner or loser. Both of them will march (or ride) forward, all fingers and tongues, until they reach their peak.

"Ah!" Brunhilde presses into his prostate, and Thor sees flashes of lightning, colorful storms on the horizon like galaxies. He grips her shoulder and grits out, "Again. There, again."

Brunhilde, coy and knowing, says, "Where? Here?" She pulls nearly all the way out, agonizingly slow, then plunges back in. She takes hold of his dick again, one hand fondling the velvet of his balls as she slips in and out of Thor.

Thor squeezes his eyes shut and takes everything Brunhilde gives him. Each push, every thrust is a new reason to adore her. He feels himself getting closer to his orgasm, body feeling like a string pulled taught. Then, of course, Brunhilde snaps that string. She buries herself deep within him, hip to thigh, rubber balls deep, with the tip of the strap-on pressed against the bundle of nerves that makes Thor see electrical storms. Thor throws his head back against the pillows, back arched like a bow. Valkyrie pulls the bow, string and arrow in hand, and slips two fingers of her free hand into his ass alongside the strap. She slows her movements, becoming languish and gentle with her movements until there is close to no movement at all.

Brunhilde pants, sweat glistening on her face. She's shaking, almost overwhelmed, but excited beyond words. It's all too much and still not enough. If there was any more time in the day, she'd spend it all in Thor's bed, wrecking him and being wrecked by him. Thor is seductive when he is beneath her, a deep well with endless water, but she is thirsty. Parched, throat dry, she doesn't think she could ever get enough of him. But there is time, here, and she'll dip her cupped hands into his well and pull up as many bone-melting orgasms as she can.

She breaks from her reverie at the sound of Thor's voice. He says, "When I said I wanted it deeper I didn't think you'd put it in my stomach." He shifts, feels the full weight of the strap-on and Brunhilde's fingers. Thor moves his hips downward, squirms unking-like. It charms her, he knows. "Ah, you're going to need to move. Please?"

Brunhilde stills, tips her head and asks, "I like your manners, but am I being bossed around?"

Cocky as he can be with his bitten lips and unruly hair, Thor says, "This time, yes."

"Well then. I can't disobey my king, can I?"

She moves in short, shallow pumps. Her hands twitch and work and it's good, but not good enough. With a growl, Thor comes off the pillow supporting his ass and moves up onto his knees. He nearly sits in Valkyrie's lap, legs on either side of her. He continues her work, helping, rising and falling and grinding down. He can only imagine that the pleasure goes both ways, the dual-sided strap pressing and weighing down on her own glowing spot. If there was space, he'd slip his fingers between the strap and feel the heat of her pussy, suck the juice out of her while she fucked the juice out of him, but he supposes that it's enough to see her falling apart, her dark eyes fluttering.

As Thor fucks himself on Brunhilde's bright, blue strap on, he can feel the lightning building beneath his skin. Sparks start to burn the tips of his fingers. Brunhilde looks down at the meeting of their bodies.

"Thor…"

"Yes, me too," he says. And then, after a moment to catch his breath, "You first."

"What a gentlemen." Brunhilde adjusts their positions so that their legs are entangled. The rutting begins anew, more force and determination. Brunhilde takes hold of Thor's muscled forearms. Her movements become jagged and erratic, hips stuttering as she's lost to pleasure.

Her orgasm is resplendent, body quivering and mouth spilling out curses and moans. It takes her a while to recover (she twitches, Thor notes, like electrical waves are running through her), but when she can breathe again, she removes both sides of the strap. She flops onto the bed, hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her juices, Thor's saliva and a little burn from his beard paints the insides of her thighs. Her breasts rise and fall.

Thor clears his throat. "I don't want to pull you from your afterglow, but…"

"Oh!" Brunhilde says, more amused than anything. "Come here. Lower, lower. Come on! Don't make me stretch."

Thor rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, but lies down beside her. Brunhilde pats his flank and chides him for making her wait so long, and then takes his dick in hand. Satisfied herself, Brunhilde takes her time with long teasing strokes and playful squeezes to shaft and head. His bests are tight and tender in their sack. If she had just a lick more energy, she'd suck on them and watch as Thor's eye rolled up into his head, blue heat radiating off of him. _That_ would bring the lightning out of him.

But, she is satisfied with the sounds he makes as she toys with him. Brunhilde twists her wrist and tugs on his cock a few more times. Thor, god of thunder, makes a mighty sound when she finishes him off, but it gets buried in her breasts. Brunhilde would feel sorry for the loss of noise if Thor didn't kiss, lick and love so damn well. Brunhilde rids herself of his come on the sheets and is ready with open arms when Thor rolls into her, laughing.

"Good?" She asks.

"Mhm. I liked the bit with the tongue in my ass."

"Thought you wood. I was rather fond of the part where you called me your knight in shining armor."

Thor snorts. "I recall nothing of the sort."

"Is that so?" Brunhilde asks him, laughing.

"Yes, and I think I might be too tired to continue this conversation."

Brunhilde shrugs, and turns over so that Thor's arms are wrapped around her waist. He brings the covers up around him, plants a kiss on the back of her neck.

"You should sleep if you're tired then, my king. You'll need your energy. For my turn, I mean."

Thor hums, nearly half sleep. He shoots up. " _Your turn_?"


End file.
